


Claws and Order

by afterandalasia



Series: "Salvaging the Balloon" [3]
Category: Oxventure (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Nonbinary Character, City of Mistmire (Oxventure), Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Laughter During Sex, M/NB, No Dysphoria, Non-Human Genitalia, Order of the Dragon D'Or (Oxventure), Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s03 Gnome Alone, Strength Kink, size difference kink, watching someone masturbate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: Even if they need to leave the city again in the morning, at least for tonight they can make warmer memories to take with them.
Relationships: Shattershield/Max Williams (Oxventure)
Series: "Salvaging the Balloon" [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106963
Kudos: 3





	Claws and Order

**Author's Note:**

> So, shocking though the news may be, I am in fact working on something for these two that involves an actual plot and not just some smut packed around a framework of tropes. In the meantime, this continues in time order.
> 
> In the meantime, I got assailed by this thought (or at least, let's say, the first act depicted) while trying to wrangle and nearly misspelled a character tag as a result, so I had to get it written to get it out of my head if nothing else.
> 
> With regards to the sexual content with canon nonbinary character Max... well, that's basically the entirety of this fic, so. Basically, same notes as on the other fics in the series for genitalia, dysphoria and language, simply copied below.
> 
> I went with AFAB Max because honestly, as someone who is also an AFAB enby it matches the pattern of pronouns (including slip-ups) that have been used for them in canon, and because it allows me to presume that Max is like 5'0 (150cm for those on the metric system) to really find it all the funnier when they are bossing taller people about. Zero dysphoria on Max's part, and no references to anyone else misgendering them, because DM Johnny is a wonderful person. In terms of language, there are a few uses of the word breast (singular) but mostly it's chest; the term clit is used, and there are non-specific references to vulva ("folds" or "parting them"), but no specific term is used for the vagina (generally just "inside them".)

It wasn’t that Max had particularly thought of themselves as _experienced_. Or inexperienced, to be fair; they hadn’t thought on it much at all, really. True, the travel and the fact that the Inspectors Order would generally cover the cost of a tavern bed rather than making its inspectors camp out did mean that Max got to meet people, but the sheer physical exhaustion of their job was enough to dampen their interest a lot of the time. That and the limited time available to get to know anyone; the occasional night’s fling had its advantages, but generally Max would have preferred at least some time to get to know the person first. And _that_ meant staying still for more than just long enough to sleep and eat, something which was not exactly their strong suit.

But if it wasn’t _experience_ that meant they managed to fluster Shattershield on such a regular basis, they weren’t entirely sure what it was. Just daring to kiss his mouth, to wind their tongue against his, had apparently given him pause. Slipping their fingers inside him as they wrapped their lips around his cock, a thought which had frankly come easily to them, had caught him by surprise although he had readily agreed to let them try. With some pretty successful results, they had to say.

For all his years on them, they were starting to suspect it was just a _Shattershield_ thing. They had to say, it was not that he was at all _prudish_ about what they might suggest, or ask; he just seemed less… curious, in some ways. Perhaps Max, discovering new things from the first time that their fingertips had brushed against his scales, was rather more inclined to voice whatever new curious thought came to them.

Or perhaps they did just have a dirtier mind. Shattershield certainly seemed perfectly happy with it, anyway.

It was still fun to tease him, though, kneeling up between his thighs to kiss and to lick along the side of his jaw, one of his hands to their chest and the other scooped around their uppermost thigh with claws to delicate skin. With his back to the wall he did not need to prop himself up, leaving his hands as free as theirs. Their blood was humming, warmth rippling through them, but not spiking so high as to become desperation as they kissed the back of his jaw and then blew cool air across his _eshrazani_ to hear him grunt and see him rustle them.

“You are impossible,” he grumbled, hand on their thigh tightening and hitching upwards until they almost fell completely against him. Then with a muted growl he slipped that hand further round, pressing his hand up between their thighs to brush against them with gentle fingertips.

Rocking their hips into his touch, Max moaned against his scales as they sucked on the side of his neck. Even biting until they felt his breath tighten would be unlikely to leave a bruise, unlike the ones they could get away with bearing away from Mistmire with them each time they left, and for a moment they stilled in Shattershield’s arms as they drew away and ran their fingers gently over the patch of scales still only visible from the wet shine of where their tongue had been.

It only took a moment for Shattershield’s hands to halt against them as well, his head cocking. “Max?” he said. “Are you okay?”

It was only their last night of this visit. Next month, they would be able to return. But the sneaking feeling of unfairness that had come on, month by month, was nipping at their heels again. They pressed another kiss to the same point of his neck, gentler this time.

“Not looking forward to leaving,” they said, by way of reply, and rubbed their hand against his chest to a faint sound from him that they felt more than heard. They could not quite bring themselves to look up from his shoulder, not sure what they would give away. There would be plenty of time to pick apart those thoughts while they were travelling; far less time to get to feel his touch. “I’m starting to get to know the taverns along the road.”

“I can save some days off for next time,” Shattershield replied, voice still soft. “Go with you part of the way back, then return here. An extra two or three days.”

Half their time again. But Max was not sure it would be much better, still counting hours, not even being able to count on the privacy of his quarters or the tacit – or sometimes less than tacit – approval of his order. Thinner walls, leaky rooves, occasionally still camping all the same.

“I think I’d rather make sure I’ve got good memories of you to take with me,” they said, letting their voice drop and moving, as sinuously as they could manage, against him. The movement seemed to reassure Shattershield, as his fingers found their nipple again, in simple but insistent motions against them. They ran the tip of their tongue along his scales, up to the subtle hollow of his ear. “Make sure I can imagine your hand instead of mine.”

Shattershield _snatched_ in his breath, the hand between their legs slipping to grip at their upper thigh almost bruising-tight as he swayed against them. Then he swung around to nose at the base of their neck, a growl in his throat, teeth nipping at their skin even as they were still processing the fire of his reaction.

They bit their lip as he released their thigh to bring his hand up to them again, fingers slipping along their skin and just teasing at their clit. It had taken them some time to read the minute shifts in his expression as he spoke, but gods if Shattershield’s body was not far easier to read. They rolled their knuckles against his sternum, then again an inch lower, feeling him shudder slightly as they passed over the sensitive point beneath his ribs and continued down.

“Are you good with that?” they breathed against his skin, even if his reaction had made him pretty certain of the answer. “Me still thinking of you?”

“Are you trying to drive me quite insane?” Shattershield said, even as he shifted his hand to slip one finger inside them. Max gave a high-pitched moan against his skin, leaning back into his touch.

“Do you think of me, _arvargus_?” they said, the words slipping from their lips on impulse. They nipped his scales. “Because I think of you.”

The first time they had caught themselves gasping his name, it had caught them so by surprise that they had stilled their hand, heart pounding and stomach lurching. Left them flustered, trembling, and with clenches of discomfort running through them without at all the usual pleasure of climax. The next time their hand slipped down, they had let their thoughts follow, falling into memories of Shattershield’s touch, the sound of his voice in their ear, the warm scent of his skin. They had whispered his name as they came in wracking waves, almost holding their breath to keep quiet, shuddering and tightening around their own fingers with their thighs streaked wet.

Shattershield gave a shuddering rumble as Max licked the hollow at the base of his throat. “ _Akison_ ,” he murmured, Draconic perhaps easing the confession on his tongue. Max continued to make rippling movements down his chest with their fist, other hand winding around the back of his neck again to rub circles on his skin and brush through his _eshrazani_. He nudged them back far enough to return his tongue to their skin, tracing ragged patterns across their shoulder.

“I think of what you’ve done,” said Max. Shattershield closed his teeth on their collarbone, tilting his hand to reach deeper into them, one more rush of heat to the firestorm already rushing over them. “Of what I want to do to you next time.”

“ _Damn it_ , Max,” he growled. His claws grazed down their chest, just hard enough to sting as they traced close by their nipple.

Their knuckles reached the base of his stomach, even as they lightened their touch. “Do you touch yourself when you think of me?”

They drew back far enough to look at his expression, flustered and unable to meet their gaze as he glanced up from their shoulder. He went to speak then caught himself, once and then twice, swallowing then falling to breathing hard.

Was this why some people had a thing about corrupting paladins? It generally came with the misconception that all paladin orders had rules of chastity, which Max had taken to replying to with a graphic description of what the individual asking could do to themselves. But seeing Shattershield speechless and aroused, flustered even as he was buried to the knuckles in them, was entirely its own sort of thrill down their spine.

“Maybe I’m thinking of you at the same time,” they added, softly.

Finally, Shattershield met their eyes. “Maybe.”

A shiver ran through them, their fingers curling against the back of his neck. Catching hold of his wrist, they steered his right hand away from their chest, up to press a light kiss against the pads of his fingers. “Can I see?” they said.

Shattershield’s breath hitched again. “…see?” he said, in a tone that suggested he rather did know what Max meant but was not sure he could believe it yet.

The number of times, in the weeks between being able to be with him, that they had imagined it was his hands… even the loss of his touch, right now, would be worth it for the sight of him. They had not actually stopped to think of whether Shattershield had also been… taking matters into his own hands. Now he had admitted it, though, it was all that they could do to not lose their breath, skin tingling with the memory of touches, nipples aching against the air.

“See you,” they said, “as you think of me.”

He gave a ragged huff of breath, eyes dropping again. “I’ve never done this before… for someone watching, I mean, I…”

“Neither have I,” said Max. “What was it you said, that first day? That I acted so confident, you thought I knew what I was doing?”

That, at least, cracked a smile from him again. ”Mm. Something like that.”

“I don’t have to… go and get a chair or anything. I can stay here.” They paused for a moment in stroking the back of his neck, letting their hand move to rub against _eshrazani_ instead. With a muted rumble of a reply, Shattershield leaned in and brushed his jaw against their temple, so close that they could feel the sound in his throat. “But if next time I’m alone, I can picture you…”

They couldn’t even finish the words, breath catching in their throat from how much just _saying_ it made them want him. For once, they let the shift of their hips move _away_ from his fingers, half withdrawn even before his hand came gently away and a rush of anticipation ran down them. Shattershield nodded, tongue apparently still caught, and Max put a hand to the end of his snout to draw him around and kiss him again.

His eyes closed as they drew in to kiss him, tongue careful past his teeth as they guided his right hand vaguely downwards then ran their touch back up to the muscle of his upper arm. They honestly had little idea how to go about this, just the desperate yearning in their gut to do so, to see him, to have that image cradled in their mind to bear away from this city with them. Running their tongue across their lips, Max shifted slightly before their knees began to ache, keeping an eye on Shattershield’s expression, even with his eyes closed and head slightly bowed.

“Do you picture me?” they said, softly, even as his hand moved down with a slowness that was almost uncertainty. He gave an assenting rumble as the heel of his hand brushed the scales at the base of his stomach, and Max let their own breath quicken for him to hear. They rubbed their cheek against his snout, running one hand over his bent knee beside them. “Will you tell me?”

“What you look like,” Shattershield replied, voice low and growling and still almost _tentative_ , and Max could not help a shudder and a soft moan just from the sound of it. “When you push me to the bed. It lets me see you so clearly.” They watched his hand against his scales, firm strokes of the base of his hand, understated. His other hand skimmed down their side, barely more than a brush of scales to skin but leaving them thrumming from the heat of it.

“Darkvision is cheating.”

It made him chuckle, even ragged and breathless, as they let their lips drift across his snout in the ghostly echo of kissing him. “What you looked like that first night,” he added, words so low now that Max had to concentrate to hear them; at a catch of his breath they glanced down again to see the flushed pink of his cock, before his hand was moving down towards it. “Kneeling. Still looking like you wanted to devour me whole.”

“I did,” they said. It was a strange, welcome feeling to know how much that moment had stuck with him as well. “Even under that blanket… there was rather too much of you to be seen.”

He huffed. “I kept thinking I was imagining the look in your eyes.”

The way that the firelight had licked along his skin in trails of golden embers. The heat of his body through the lay of blanket between them. The deep, magnetic draw of his gaze when they had finally met it. “I was trying to hide it,” Max admitted. They traced their fingers along his thigh, feeling the faint outline of the scar from that same time. “I guess you’ve seen I’m no good at hiding when I want you.”

Shattershield’s eyes were still closed; perhaps that was easier. But Max could not look away from him, hand around his cock with just the slightest careful shift to ensure his claws were well away from his skin, strokes slow and steady. His breath shuddered for a moment as he reached his full length, all the way down to the thicker base, and he slipped his hand down as if checking it was so. Max’s hands tightened on him with the urge to reach for his cock, an ache between their thighs as they held back. “Nor I,” he said, almost a growl.

His hand grew firmer on their back, almost swaying them into him, but they pushed back against it just this once. “Let me see.”

Drawing their nails back down his thigh probably went a little against the spirit of what they were trying to do, as well, but Shattershield twitched slightly in place and his hand tightened momentarily on his cock and _gods_ it was all Max could do to not simply do it again. They knew how his hand felt, scales firmer and slightly rougher than skin, the difference it made to the sensitive touch when he slipped between their thighs. Perhaps their skin was just as strange to him.

Perhaps it bought that same bite of disappointment when the realisation of such intruded on an attempt to imagine it was the other’s hand, and not their own.

They pushed the thought firmly aside, kissing his snout again with what they hoped was an encouraging sound. His claws dug into them for a moment, and they wondered if it would leave marks to take with them.

“I think of your tongue,” Max said, and Shattershield hissed something in Draconic, hips shifting for a moment as he bucked against his hand. It was almost a physical effort not to cast this game aside, push him down to the mattress and claim him – for all that the mattress was currently on the floor, broken bedframe sitting embarrassing on the far side of the room. Max did not dare take their hands off him, did not dare touch themselves, certain they would come apart in no time at all if they did. “I think of the sounds you make against me. What it’s like to feel you make those noises.”

“Max…”

“Tell me,” they said, voice catching slightly. “ _Please_.”

He bit lightly at their shoulder, tugging a little at their skin, even as Max watched the hypnotic steady movement of his hand on his cock. Quicker, now, though still sure strokes, flushed pink skin glistening past gold, light catching on the head. “I still think of that first time,” he said, low and rough, and Max shivered. “The way you felt around me. How you moved.” His voice made the words almost soft, almost delicate between them, even as Max had to concentrate on them through the sound of scales on skin. “The look on your face as you… _gethrisj_ ,” he said, and Max recognised enough of the shape of the word to have a good idea of what he meant.

They moaned softly against his snout, lips skimming his scales and the tip of their tongue against him, then drew back far enough to look down his body again. At the movement of his chest with each breath, shining in the evening sunlight, at the shift of his shoulders against the wall. If they thought too much about the heat flooding their own body, they were going to lose their mind.

“My sheets still smell of you,” he said, and for a moment Max was not sure they could remember how to breathe as he answered a question they had not even thought to ask. His hand stroked against their back, and even that touch, so simple that it would not draw shocked looks even in a public place, had them struggling to keep their breathing anything like steady as they clung to him, lips parted, watching with hungry eyes. “After you leave. And even once they’re washed,” his breath caught for a moment again, “There’s still your soap left behind.”

Oh _gods_. The muscles of their thighs were starting to tremble, even with his hand no lower than the small of their back and both of theirs still pressed tightly to him. “I can’t claim that,” they said, fighting to keep it from being too much of a whimper against him. “But whenever I wear that shirt…”

His teeth tightened on their shoulder, painfully, and Max whined at the back of their throat as his hand grew faster still, in time with his rough breaths. He released their skin with a groan as his thigh tightened beneath their hand, and Max let eager sounds leave their tongue as his hips jerked and they watched him come. Their eyes were still fixed on his cock, watching the last few fierce strokes of his hand as he came against their thigh in glistening white streaks, the heave of his breath and the movement of his hips.

They were trembling, liquid heat pooling in their belly, legs barely able to hold them as they kissed eagerly, almost desperately, down the line of his mouth. “Arend,” they breathed; he rubbed his snout against their shoulder and growled faintly. Shattershield gave a soft grunt and shifted his hips again; Max saw his cock beginning to retract again and perhaps it shouldn’t have been arousing, shouldn’t have made their hand slide up his thigh towards the line of his hip. But even now, they rarely saw it happen, and the strange intimacy of it made their gut clench. “Oh fuck, Arend.”

They could not manage much more, bowing their head to mouth at his shoulder, thighs tense from stillness. Before they could think better of the idea, they reached down and ran their fingers through the lines on their thigh, then bought them up to their mouth, drawing back in time to see Shattershield look up towards them and make a choking sound at the sight.

Slowly, Max sucked their fingers clean, gaze lingering on Shattershield even as his eyes seemed fixed on their mouth. Even by his usual standards of unravelling them, they felt fragmented, that helpless desperation running through them that usually only came from his more deliberate attempts to, as he would put it, have his way with them.

He raised his hand from their side, stroking their cheek. “Was that... what you wanted, _vethparijan_?” It sounded as if he had still not quite caught his breath.

What they had wanted… an image to carry with them, a memory to assist their hand when it came to keeping them warm on cold nights. But his words had done more than they had expected, formed a more searing memory. “I wanted something to remember,” Max said, their voice shaking as his thumb brushed past the corner of their mouth. It always seemed to burn in a way that a touch alone should not. “I don’t think I could forget that if I tried.”

They gasped as he leaned in and ran his tongue up the line of their throat, leaving it cool in the air. “I am glad,” he said. They felt his hand brush their hip, fingers still damp, and made a muted, desperate sound as another wave of yearning ran through them, as another jolt ran down the base of their spine. Much more, and they were not sure he would need to touch them at all.

“Arend, I…” the words caught, too difficult to quite form as his touch ran down even the outside of their thigh. Their legs finally buckled beneath them, and they knelt down heavily, leaning in to Shattershield’s chest and desperately trying to catch their breath from air that suddenly felt too hot to breath.

Leaning in, Shattershield rubbed his _eshrazani_ against the top of their head again, his hand shifting on their back as if ready to support them. “What do you want, Max?”

They still struggled to handle just how often he asked that question. Not just when it came to sex, but how often he would calmly defer to them without any concern for his own ego. For now, though… they were not sure their answer would help.

“Anything,” they said, unable to make it more than a breath. His breath was warm against their neck, and they felt as if the hair on their arms was standing on end, goosebumps that had nothing to do with fear. “It…” a faint laugh escaped them. “It won’t take much.”

He rumbled, rubbing against them again, cupping their jaw with one hand as the other came up to stroked their shoulder and down their arm. Max closed their eyes, biting hard on their lower lip as his hand came up to their chest, thumb flicking their nipple. Even the simple touch sent a tremor through them. Tilting back their chin, he lowered his mouth to their throat again, nipping his way down as he palmed their chest and toyed further at their nipple. Pinching at their skin, a little rougher these days than he had once been, until the aching of desire had turned to something just slightly more sore, skin feeling hot beneath his touch even if they could not see whether it was as flushed as it felt.

Part of them wanted to beg him to move lower, between their trembling thighs where heat was pulsing through them in time with their heartbeat. But even his hand on their nipple was something close to release, especially as he ran his tongue along their collarbone, grazed his teeth against their shoulder over the pattern of faint marks from earlier that day. He purred against the base of their throat, teasing claws against their nipple until they moaned, rough tight pleasure pulsing between their thighs again. Max gripped his hip, letting him tilt them backwards a little further so that his mouth met their other nipple, tongue wrapping around it, and Max made a choking sound of pleasure.

It was almost like fireworks behind their eyes, pleasure so tight that it was almost unbearable but rippling on their skin as well. They gasped for breath as his tongue teased at their aching skin, coaxing movements and gentle rumbling sounds as they felt their limbs already trying to unwind their tension.

They gasped his name, even as he moved his mouth across, the hot wet muscle almost too much on tender skin. Max shuddered, pleasure starting to flood through them, as Shattershield gently closed his teeth on their nipple and lightly _tugged_ , claws scraping over their stomach, but Max was fighting for breath that would not come, something inside them cracking open into an unstoppable red-hot wave at flashed behind their eyelids and their back arched towards a touch that was not even there. Their body tightened on nothing, shuddering in Shattershield’s hold as he growled in what might have been a question but which Max could not have found the words to answer.

Clinging to him, Max let themselves come apart – could not have stopped it, perhaps, but all the same let it happen now as Shattershield’s tongue swirled against them, tangible warmth radiating from his skin, arm like an iron band supporting their back.

As the waves receded and they could breathe again, the first clear sound they managed was little more than a whine, then as Shattershield hesitated they gulped in clear air and opened their eyes again. “Arend.” He grunted against their skin. “Arend, one moment.”

He raised his head from them, scales on the tip of his snout shining from close passage of his tongue. Shattershield’s eyes skimmed down their body and back up again, like drinking them in, but as Max set about sitting upright he straightened up against the wall again and let them rise.

Their hands were shaking against him, and a flicker of confusion furrowed at his brows. “Did you…”

For a moment, they simply nodded, heart still racing and thoughts still all but overwhelmed. It still almost ached between their thighs, even with their muscles half-unknotted with climax, as they swallowed and gathered their thoughts towards something that would hopefully be more coherent.

“I’ve not had that happen before,” they said. They had been expecting to need barely a touch between their thighs, but had not expected to come without Shattershield even lowering his hand to them. Max blinked, glancing down at their body where it had managed to so thoroughly surprise them, seeing their own thighs shining and their chest just as flushed and speckled with reddish marks as they might have expected. “Oh gods.”

“Is that good?” said Shattershield.

A heartbeat later they were laughing, fondly, leaning on Shattershield’s chest as their body seemed to return to itself. They pressed their forehead to his scales as he gave another, more confused-sounding, grunt, then peeled back and looked up at him as the laughter faded to a smile.

“More than good,” they said. They kissed his snout, a gentle drag of their lips against his scales. “That was… mm.” It finally felt as if their heart rate was slowing, limbs coming back under their control. “I’ve heard of that but… never known it happen before.” It certainly made the world feel clearer, even if it did not dampen how much they wanted him. The image rose of his hand on his cock, the way that his voice had tightened as he spoke about the bed still bearing their scent, and warmth rushed through them again. “I think that means I should congratulate you.”

 _That_ made Shattershield make one of those delightfully flustered spluttering sounds, coughing uncertainly and not quite managing full words. Max laughed again, more softly, and released their tight hold on his hip to run a hand up his chest instead.

“But I think that _I_ should be asking what _you_ want,” they continued. “Especially after that.”

They pushed back to kneeling up, thighs aching slightly as they returned to something like eye-level on him. His hand stroked the outside of their thigh absently. “Oh?” he said.

“That was at my request.” They cocked their head as they met his gaze. They weren’t sure whether the month would be easier to bear or not with that image of him, but by the next time they returned to Mistmire they would certainly know.

They hoped it would not make it worse. Each month, it had already been getting gradually more difficult to leave.

“Your turn, Arend.” They kissed him again, flicking their tongue against his scales. “What do you want of me?”

Trailing their mouth along the line of his lower jaw, they felt as much as heard the low grumble that ran through him. “I’m not sure I have the imagination for that,” he said quietly.

A soft nip against his scales. “You’ve surprised me before,” they said. Even as far back as those first few days in the cabin, drawing them down onto their back to take them apart. “Though you don’t need to,” they added, running fingertips down the centre of his chest. “I just… want to let you decide.”

Did that go against itself? Saying that they wanted to know what he wanted? With a huff, though, Shattershield leant in and nipped their neck again, softer, hands coming up to stroke their sides. There was a determined press to his weight, and Max let themselves be led down onto their back, mattress still much the same beneath them even if it was on the floor these days.

Shattershield moved down their chest with long strokes of his tongue, leaning out of the way to let them straighten out their legs. It was not until his tongue reached their hip that Max remembered his come across their thigh, and they went to speak only for Shattershield to look up, catch their eye, and run his tongue straight along their skin.

Their brain skidded to a halt, and Max could only stare as Shattershield licked their thigh clean, tongue smooth and hot against them. They tried to speak, managed only an incoherent sound, but then he was making his way back up the inside of the opposite thigh with no need to explain his intentions.

“That works,” said Max breathlessly, just in time for Shattershield to hitch one of their legs over his shoulder and run his tongue along the crease of their thigh. He made a low growling sound, burring against their skin, and nipped just hard enough at the delicate inside of their thigh for their leg to twitch in place.

The huff of his breath against their skin made it clear all over again how wet he had left them, heated and sensitive to his touch even before the first gentle pass of his tongue. The tip of it curled into them, delicately parting them with that silken feeling and rumbling as he moved.

A deeper pass, licking further into them, and Max moaned at the pressure of his tongue. It was so soon that they were still even more sensitive to his touch, with blood still pounding in time to their aroused heartbeat and attention having lingered between their thighs. Shattershield roamed their skin with his tongue as if it was new territory to him, every time, intent and firm with the strokes of his tongue.

He brought his hand up, gently pressing them open with his fingers to offer up the flat of his tongue. At the first sweep of his tongue across their clit, they groaned louder, then caught themselves and put a hand over their mouth. With a muted growl, Shattershield pressed in closer, nudging their leg higher and kneading at the underside of their thigh. Max moaned against their hand as Shattershield’s tongue flicked at their clit, quick firm shapes darting back and forth punctuated by lingering sweeps.

They stroked along the top of his head and to his horns, fingers trembling as he lapped in shallow movements at their entrance. He said something in Draconic against them, something that sounded warm and eager and which he followed with another long drag of his tongue.

Gods, some day they would have to learn enough of the language to know what he was saying, though they had a suspicion that sort of vocabulary was going to be a little harder to find. For now they squirmed in his hold and muffled sounds against their palm as he formed a vee with his tongue to rock against their clit, firm pressure to both sides at once that he _knew_ undid them.

They moaned his name, lifting their hips to his mouth, and in reply he lowered the rumbling sound in his throat and slid his tongue inside them. After climaxing around nothing, the thrust of his tongue was like a streak of burning pleasure, hot and full inside them as he let it curl and flex against their walls. It was not like the strokes of his cock, or even the careful coaxing of his fingers; with each slight tilt of his head, his tongue swept against them with certain force, driving along their skin.

They could not trust themselves to speak without crying out, not as they began to shudder around him again as if aftershocks of the first orgasm were running back through them. He all but purred, drawing back to work his tongue at their clit again as they did their best to restrain the sounds wrested from them. His hand on their thigh pressed their legs wider, opening them up to the curling motions of his tongue against tender skin.

Without warning, Shattershield bit at the exposed underside of their thigh, a slower bruising pressure rather than the sharpness of a nip. Max groaned against the heel of their hand, nails scratching softly against the top of his head, as the cooler air reasserted itself against their skin.

As he drew back, Max could hear him panting softly, even as they fought to control their own breathing. He looked up, eyes smouldering the length of them, as he rubbed the base of his jaw and the soft rustling spines of his _eshrazani_ against the sore skin of their thigh.

“I ask you what you want,” said Max breathlessly, pushing up onto their elbows again. “And of everything, you…”

Shattershield gave a low rumble, glancing down somewhere on their body. “If you take the morning tide tomorrow,” he said, “I would…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. They stroked a thumb along his brow.

“In Common?” they said, gentle enough to be teasing, even as they hoped he would answer.

He grunted, and for a moment they thought he would not reply, but then he muttered against their damp-streaked thigh. “I would not see you go without tasting you again,” he said, words almost lost against them.

Their heart pounding, Max unhooked their arm from his shoulder and sat up completely, and as Shattershield looked upwards they pressed a kiss to his forehead, to the bridge of his nose, to above his eye. This time his grunt was more questioning, and for a moment they could not wrap words around the breathless knowledge that the words, at least as much as letting them watch as he touched himself, were stepping outside his comfort zone. Shattershield only had to push up onto his elbows for Max to easily kiss him, tasting lingering traces of themselves along the line of his mouth.

“ _Avargus_ ,” they said softly, and he huffed. “Your words mean a lot to me, you know.”

He grunted, tilting his head to make the roaming of their lips easier, hand on their waist and thumb stroking the skin of their stomach. “I try,” he said, dryly.

Their fingers traced over his shoulder, up along the line of his collarbone, and they quirked a smile. “Leaving me hanging is a little rude, though.”

“Oh, I am not fool enough to do that,” he replied, without looking at all surprised, as he nosed against the base of their neck. He pushed up onto his hands and knees, rising taller than them again, biting softly at their throat over tender patterns they could already feel beneath their skin, shadows of his former touches. “I was just thinking how.”

The simple words were more than enough to set a shiver down their spine, wetness growing even more marked against their thighs. Max watched him hungrily as his eyes ran down them, not bothering to hide the consideration in his gaze.

“Mm,” he said after a moment, scooping an arm around their back. Suspecting what he intended, Max looped their arms around his neck, and sure enough caught a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth before he slipped down and rolled onto his back, bringing Max around onto his chest.

They pushed back their hair as they sat up astride him, claws grazing lightly over ribs and down their stomach. One hand fell straight to the base of his stomach, firm motions against his scales, until they heard a faint growl rising in his throat. “Still thinking of how this started?” they said.

Their fingers traced down to find the head of his cock, nudging against their thigh. They shifted their weight slightly as they wrapped their hand around him.

Shattershield huffed. “I seem to remember you not being quite so direct about some things.”

“Only because I didn’t know how,” said Max, with a smile. That earned them a chuckle, and when Shattershield raised a hand to run his thumb across their lower lip they knew exactly what he meant by it.

They caught his thumb between their lips, moaning softly against it even as they guided him into themselves. His claws raked down their hips as they settled to the hilt of him, one steady move that made it clear how eager their body was for him. He said something breathless in Draconic, but they knew by now that whatever it was, it was a compliment, and that alone was enough for the sounds to run hot down their spine.

Putting their hands to his chest, they rocked against him, shallow rolling movements that let them grind their clit against him even as the ridges of his cock traced ripples through them. The beaded pattern of him, taut against their walls, shimmering pleasure behind their eyelids as they felt Shattershield bend his knees slightly, tilting them forwards a fraction and aiding the movement of their hips.

“You have certainly learned,” said Shattershield, and it took Max a moment to even roll back their thoughts and realise what he was referring to. A chuckle escaped them as he wound his hand back into their hair, thumb brushing at stray curls by their temple, familiar and comfortable in its warmth.

They ran a hand down his chest, feeling not for the first time a stab of curiosity about who there might have been in the past, who might have been lucky enough to be at his side even for a shorter time. But that way led thoughts of ending that Max was not ready to face even in their conversation, never mind in moments such as this, as he bought one hand to their chest to return to kneading and to teasing at their nipple.

“I like learning,” they settled for instead, deliberately clenching their muscles around him to feel the sound it provoked deep in his chest. “Didn’t the Draconic give it away?”

Shattershield brushed his claws against their nipple, enough to send another shiver through them. “Hmm. _Wushzarath sathi?_ ” he said, voice moving from a tease to the hint of a challenge as he rolled the words quickly and fluidly off his tongue.

The speed would have tripped them up once, but Max knew the shape of the phrase these days, a greeting they might use for other Dragon D’Or paladins but – other than Shattershield – likely not the other officers. Certainly, as a way of asking _how are you_ it expected a slightly more literal reply than Common did, but it did not exactly do to hide things between members of the same order. They smiled, not losing the rhythm of their body against him. “ _Sjath vethkeshka_ ,” they replied, probably not quite hitting the sounds quite right but at least knowing the idiomatic response.

“Every month you say it better,” said Shattershield, brushing back their hair.

They had not brought themselves to use Draconic for anyone other than him, though, beyond occasionally using it to thank someone who had addressed them in the language. In the mess hall, the library, about the keep; the more that they visited, the more that people seemed to assume that they spoke at least some level of the tongue. Probably they had confused a few people by thanking them at inappropriate moments, but at least it probably avoided them ever coming off as rude.

They tried to reply in Draconic, _because of you_ , but knew from the moment that it left their lips that it was not quite right because of the confused look that Shattershield gave them. He cocked his head, looking almost taken aback by whatever had just left their lips, and Max stilled above him in immediate concern that they had said something terrible by accident.

“What was that meant to be?” he said after a moment, which could only mean that it was even worse than they had thought.

“Um, because of you? Thanks to you?” They bit their lip. “What did I _actually_ say?”

Shattershield huffed, and seemed to consider his words for a moment before even managing a reply. “Well, it was more or less ‘you blame under’,” he said, apparently unable to keep a lilt of disappointment out of his voice.

Well, at least they hadn’t accidentally said something crude about his parentage. Max began laughing, somewhere between relief and embarrassment, only to catch their breath sharply at the way that it made Shattershield feel inside them, the patterns of his cock against them. He looked at least as startled as they felt, and the expression only made them laugh harder. They leaned on his chest to support their weight as they gave over to their laughter, watching him melt into a fond, amused expression.

“I’m sorry,” they said, not managing to sound it, as they stroked their hands down his chest. “I thought I had that phrase.”

“We can work on that later,” he suggested, sounding far more serious about it than Max could have managed with a smile still aching in their cheeks. “Perhaps I should not test your Draconic at such moments.”

“You are under me.” Pointing it out was too much for them to resist, and as Shattershield was once again reduced to spluttering Max returned to laughter. They bent down over him, resting their forearms on his chest and bowing their head to laugh against his chest. At least _this_ sound they did not much need to worry about muffling, as Shattershield finally gave in and chuckled as well. Still giggling, they looked up at him again, as he brushed their forehead with a thumb where he had kept his hand in their hair throughout.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You are terrible. And if you cannot concentrate for laughing;” releasing their hair, he slid an arm around their back, and rolled them back around to the bed again. Max gasped as he parted them briefly, the cold air against them and the pang of losing him inside them. “Then it seems I must take matters into my own hands.”

He knelt between their thighs, then with the arm still at their back tugged them up towards him. Max grabbed at the mattress as if to keep themselves stable, then reminded themselves to trust Shattershield’s strength and the friction of his scales as he drew them up, hips towards his until they felt his cock brush their thigh again, their legs slung around his waist. Max crossed them loosely about his back, their back against his thighs and only their shoulders still pressed against the sheets. It did not leave them feeling too open, they had to say, although perhaps part of that was the months of familiarity with him. They could already feel the promise of frustration of not being able to control the rhythm of their movements, though, a prickling down their spine.

With a muted rumble, Shattershield bent down over them, lowering himself to his elbows to brush his snout along the line of their shoulder. One hand dipped between them, and they felt the head of his cock inside them again, soothing some of the ache in their gut, before he slipped that same hand around to the centre of their back and arched them up against him.

Max tightened their legs around his back as he drew them back together again, the position almost exaggerating him inside them, making every ridge blaze through them and seeming to press him impossibly deep. Their breath became a moan as he shifted, paused to glance down at their bodies, then began to roll his hips against them in something closer to grinding than to a thrust.

 _“Arend_ ,” they said breathlessly; he rumbled low in his chest, and they felt it trembling through their thighs. He shifted the arm on which he was leaning, and then his fingers were twining into theirs, rough warm scales against their damp palm. They traced their fingers along the lines of his neck, back and forth along his collarbone, as he leant close enough to nuzzle the base of their neck, breathing rough beside them. A momentary, breathless laugh escaped them. “I guess that’s one way to deal with me.”

He nipped just at the curve of their shoulder, hips settling to a steady rolling rhythm that was reaching angles they did not know how to explain, curling breathlessly through them. “Is this – is this okay?” he said, flexing his claws slightly against their back.

Max made an encouraging sound, not quite finding words for a moment as they curled their fingers against his shoulder. “Yes,” the managed. “Yes, oh gods. It makes you…” His hand pressed more firmly to their back, just when they thought that he could feel no more full inside them, and they broke off with a gasp. “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t sure this…” he rubbed the heel of his hand against theirs, the lengths of their forearms pressed together. Being wrapped around him was a little like being up against the wall again, the same close press of his body, but this time instead of cool stone there was the hot press of his thighs against their back, and instead of rocking thrusts he was moving in even gentler moves against them, like swelling waves of heat going through them. His voice dropped to barely a murmur. “It is a little hard to move.”

“It’s working,” Max said. They might have ridden him harder when they were above him, but even the gentle movements of his hips were doing more than enough. Then again, gods, they had been coming apart before he had even touched them, just from the words on his tongue as they had watched his hand against his cock.

With a soft groan, Shattershield nosed closer to their shoulder, hips seeming to come closer with each roll against them no matter how impossibly tight together they were already wound. They still felt the way that the base of him thickened, though, stretched around him as they reached the hilt of him and his claws dug into their back.

“Tell me,” Max said, breathlessly, not sure what they were even asking any more as even the smallest shifts of his hips sent tremors through their body and flares of pleasure through them. “Arend. I want to hear your voice,” they realised, admitted, pressing up their hips to him.

He growled against them, pushing up a little on his arm so that he could look down to them. Max bit their lip to hold back another moan, tracing the line of his mouth as he opened it slightly, gentle against his teeth. “What can I tell you, _vethparijan_?”

 _Anything_ , they almost said, but that was hardly useful and would probably be more distracting than anything else. Draconic was probably out of the question, given their failures in it that evening, as well. Max dragged in their breath, running their thumb against the line of his mouth. “If we were back in that cabin,” they said. Months ago and miles away, but still seared across both of them. “What would you say?”

“I’d bring better food,” said Shattershield, tone so soft and so serious both at once that Max did not even think it was in jest. He squeezed their hand where he held it, loosening his hold against their back to stroke their skin for a moment before pressing them closer again. “Bring whatever we need. Hide away there.”

Max caught their breath. It had not been what they had meant, but the low steady sound of his voice was like a path through the storm beneath their skin, and they clung to it. “Make yourself a lair?” they asked, not quite able to make it sound like teasing either.

He grunted. The movement of his hips matched the pattern of his breath, Max realised, and theirs as well as the pressure inside them continued to build. “Have you to myself,” he said, something like admitting in his voice. He leaned back in to bite softly at the base of their neck again, then to run his tongue up the side of their thought to almost beneath their ear. “Have me to yourself.”

Their lips almost ached with how much they wanted to kiss him, but as he nipped his way back down their skin they settled for rubbing their hand firmly against his _eshrazani_. “I’d like that,” they said.

His mouth was gentle against their shoulder, teeth little more than pressure, tongue moving in slow, lingering strokes. “Let you do as you please with me.” He grazed their skin with his teeth, and at another deep, powerful movement of his hips Max held back a cry of pleasure, the feeling almost too much, the heat trapped between them almost painful.

At another press of his claws, they arched their back, and the sudden drag of friction over their clit made stars flash behind their eyes. Max gasped his name, hand wrapping around the back of his neck again, as Shattershield growled something in Draconic against their shoulder. They could feel themselves tipping over the edge again, body starting to shake as Shattershield grunted, deep inside them, twitches of his hips as he came. The motion against them was too much, and Max had to choke down the cry in their throat as his touch sent a second climax crashing through them, their body tightening around him, hot pure rushes through their muscles as they unwound for him.

A snarl left Shattershield’s throat as they climaxed around him, too loud for a moment before he clamped his mouth closed and pressed against their shoulder where they could still feel it in him. Max gasped for breath, clutching at his hand in theirs as something like calm swept through their body again, blood seeming to rush for a moment to their head with the angle at which they lay in his arms.

Then there was quiet, beneath both their heavy breaths, behind the pounding of Max’s heartbeat in their ears and the crackling of the fire. Stilled, it somehow felt like a stranger position to be in, but the way that Shattershield was curled around them cocooned them in his warmth, his hand on their back gently lowering them to the ground but still wrapped along their side.

They could ask him what he had said in Draconic, they knew, but whatever it was did not felt like it mattered all that much compared to the warm hold of him, the feeling of being held against his scales. Max let their legs relax around him as they felt his cock retract, his hips shift to what was presumably a more comfortable tilt.

There was still an allure to the fantasy of it, just the two of them curled in some distant cabin with no need to leave, no pressing world outside. The blizzard had given them an excuse to spend the first few days that way, and when some part of Shattershield’s break from watches lined up with Max’s visits they could idle their time away, but Max, at least, could never really escape how temporary it felt. This was Shattershield’s city, these were Shattershield’s quarters, and it was never more than a handful of days before Max was gone again following the call of paladin duty.

They put aside the thought forcibly. Better to enjoy Shattershield’s touch while it lasted, to wind warmth into their bones to heat them from the inside when they set out on the road again. Shattershield softly made that purr-like sound, and Max felt their shoulders unwinding, sinking into the softer release of wanting to curl into him rather than the threatening feeling of loss that was not all that far away.

“Are you comfortable?” said Max quietly, brushing their thumb down the back of his neck. While they felt like they were in a rather _strange_ position, it was not by itself _uncomfortable_ , and if Shattershield would rather remain like that, at least for a short while as they both got their breath back, they would tolerate it.

However, he huffed and grimaced. “Honestly, my claws are digging into my own haunches. I just didn’t really care.” Max laughed as he pushed up onto his hand rather than his elbow, but unwound their leg from his side and tucked it to their chest for a moment so that he could slip down onto his side next to them, grabbing a pillow and pulling it back into place. When they had knocked those aside, they had no idea.

For a moment, they paused, considering their options of how to twine around him, but then turned so that their back was to his chest, guiding his arm around them so that they were completely wrapped up in the feel of him. It felt… comfortable, in some sense other than just touch. Shattershield gave a faint grumble that they recognised as confusion, but Max waited to see, if nothing else, what question he meant to ask.

“Are you okay, _vethparijan_?” He nosed just slightly against their hair, and true, it might well have been noticeable that this position did not offer him their hair to comb – or frankly, just to toy with – as they usually would.

How much to put words to, they were not sure. “You’re warm,” said Max, after a moment.

The exhale he gave was not quite a sigh, but it was not far off. “So is the weather, these days.”

“Not that sort of warm,” Max replied, this time without so much thought before the words spilled from their lips.

Shattershield grunted, and this time it sounded a little more like understanding. He settled around them, curling them to his chest with their head on his arm and the rumbling, purr-like sound reverberating through them both.

It was on the tip of their tongue to say that they did not want to leave in the morning. Those were not even quite the right words, though; it was not just some lack of desire to leave, but feeling actively against the idea. They’d not had something clash so strongly with their call to being a paladin before, and they hoped that the next few weeks would give them time to come to some sort of agreement with themselves about it.

Even if the last few weeks had not managed it either.

“The owner of that cabin contacted the order,” said Shattershield, and Max was startled from their thoughts. They twisted in place to look round at him. “A couple of months ago.”

“What? Why?”

“To thank us for our generosity,” he said. Max suspected that ‘us’ meant Dragon D’Or, as it had been Shattershield who had been carrying a reasonable amount of gold while Max had more receipts to show how they had spent Inspectors Order money than actual money itself. He had left what Max suspected would be quite the windfall to even a comfortably-settled villager, especially in return for what mostly came down to firewood and soap. “And to say they were glad it had been of use to a paladin order.”

“I guess paladins must have good standing, round those parts,” said Max. Some places were very keen on paladins, others more neutral; it was relatively rare that they were actively disliked, though some of the rather more officious orders had left bad memories behind in places. “That was nice of – wait, did I bring the letter here?”

“You would have done, yes,” said Shattershield, as if it were obvious. It was, to be fair, but Max’s thoughts had taken a moment longer to get there.

“Oh.” They curled back down into place in his hold, pausing to press a kiss to the muscle of his arm. “Well, I’m glad they weren’t put out by it being borrowed.”

For a long few breaths, the purring sound in Shattershield’s chest faded away, the quiet taking on a thoughtful texture as Max watched the logs collapsing and flickering down where they faced the fire. Then it returned as he nuzzled against the top of their head, angling his arm across their body and brushing their skin gently, an almost idle feeling, with his thumb. Max wasn’t sure whether it was deliberate that the touch fell right above their heart.

Conversation usually came to them more easily than this. “I’m sorry for what I did to the Draconic,” they offered, at least managing to actually sound somewhat more apologetic this time. “I will try to not butcher it like that again.”

Shattershield chuckled. “There were… certainly some relevant letters in the sentence.”

It took a moment for them to realise the calibre of the insult, and they twisted again to give him a pointed look only to be met by his fond smile. It was truly difficult to be annoyed with such an expression, but Max certainly gave the _expression_ of irritation the best look that they could manage. “I got the right pronoun,” they said.

“You had a form of the correct pronoun, yes.”

They might have had more of a leg to stand on if they had not butchered it quite so badly, it seemed. With an exaggerated roll of their eyes and a groan, Max dropped their head back onto Shattershield’s arm and pursed their lips. “I’m sure I had the right words.”

“Some of the vowels were off, some transposed letters. But I have heard worse. You didn’t announce to your commanding officer one morning that your trousers were full of geese.”

“You didn’t…”

“No, but I saw it happen and had to keep a straight face,” said Shattershield mildly, and Max gave up on even trying to look annoyed as the mental image of an entire line of dragonborn paladins trying not to react rose in their mind. “We never did find out who taught him that phrase, or what they taught him it meant…”

“I certainly hope I will not need to say anything about geese.”

“Something we all strive for,” said Shattershield.

At least from there, and from the comfort of his arms, it was easier to slip back into their usual roaming, occasionally directionless conversation, paladins who had loudly assigned themselves to the wrong deity in the middle of the Trials grounds, misunderstandings by guests about the spicier food options that Dragon D’Or provided. Max found themselves laughing and teasing again, eyes tracing the smile at the corner of Shattershield’s mouth. It was also pretty hard to miss how his expression always remained soft while they were speaking.

But they could enjoy it, could stay wrapped up in the moment, could lose themselves in how easy it felt to lie in his arms and talk about whatever they found themselves landing on. The morning low tide that they would need to leave by would be closer to noon than to sunrise, and the night was not yet that late; they had little doubt that they would be pushing him down onto his back on the sheets again before the night was through. And what hours they could claim, at the very least, they would eagerly accept as gifts.


End file.
